


Unmanageable

by imdrowningingaylosers



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-31
Updated: 2015-07-31
Packaged: 2018-04-12 07:41:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4470944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imdrowningingaylosers/pseuds/imdrowningingaylosers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was nothing, no force on earth or anywhere in the universe, no physical law governing the existence of anything that could have saved Bokuto now. Akaashi was looking down, defeated, vulnerable, visibly frustrated with himself for being unable to drag it out of the broken ace, and biting his fucking lip. Akaashi, the cool, collected Akaashi, who could part a river of excited students with the strength of his gaze alone, like some 21st century lovechild of Aphrodite and Moses, was completely open before him. And biting his fucking lip.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unmanageable

Bokuto could feel Akaashi’s gaze flitting to his left temple every couple of seconds. He could practically smell the worry and confusion – Bokuto was never quiet. Something must be very very very wrong if he’s this quiet. 

The large, generally enthusiastic manchild was, indeed, exceptionally quiet that day. But that didn’t mean he was calm. In fact, he was pretty sure he was experiencing heart palpitations, which made focusing on his math exercises even more difficult than usual.

It had all started a week ago. Well, not started, but… started to get much, much worse. The real beginning was the day Akaashi had joined the volleyball club and Bokuto suddenly realised that his palms were sweaty and his back was tense and when he tried to talk to Akaashi to help him feel comfortable with the team he forgot was he was saying. Twice. In one sentence. 

With time, he got better. Coming to terms with the fact that he definitely wasn’t straight and that he was most likely slowly falling in love with the new setter helped him settle and return back to his normal self. He was comfortable with befriending Akaashi without any awkwardness (awkward just wasn’t his style, he told himself) and they even became something like best friends. Or at least close friends. Everything was going smoothly, even if Bokuto spent some nights thrashing around on his bed because he really wanted Akaashi there, or lay under his covers petrified, because Akaashi was asleep on the futon to his right. Things were manageable.

But then one week ago everything had changed. It was the stupidest thing in the world, and Bokuto hated himself for the effect it had on him. He’d been walking down the school corridor with Akaashi, heading to after-school practice. Akaashi was walking more or less in front of him, digging a tunnel through the students swarming the hallway, when, just as he rounded the corner, he stopped abruptly to avoid colliding with some guy from the chess club. Poor, lovestruck Bokuto, who had never touched Akaashi more intimately than throwing an arm over his shoulder, walked into the raven’s back and reflexively wrapped an arm around the gorgeous boy’s waist. 

Akaashi didn’t even care. He didn’t say anything, or do anything, he didn’t look at Bokuto in disgust and say “ummm, Bokuto-san can you please not do that?” He literally didn’t react to what had happened at all. It helped with the acidic fear that almost gave the ace kidney failure, but what it didn’t help with was the massive surge of emotion and pure want that was suddenly coursing through Bokuto’s veins, demanding more, begging to hold Akaashi again. The roots of a fantasy where Bokuto and Akaashi were together had begun to dig their way into every nerve in the poor boy’s body and his mind was unexpectedly enveloped with needing to hold Akaashi’s hand, brush that stray curl of glowing black hair behind his ear, smooth out the wrinkle between his eyebrows, and just know that Akaashi got out of bed every morning excited to see him, that he’d smile because of Bokuto just being there next to him during lunch, practice, on a date. It was unmanageable.

He tried to be normal, he honestly did. But during practice he missed every single toss Akaashi sent his way, he walked around in a trance, desperately trying to figure out how to go back to the way things were. The whole team was worried. Akaashi was worried. And his worry just made Bokuto’s problems worse. Not only was the object of his affections startlingly beautiful as always, the raven was now also greeting him with a delicate hand on his shoulder, his tone softened and his eyes focused on every tiny movement Bokuto’s face made, to try and find any hint as to what was wrong. Every time, Bokuto had to actively stop himself from picking the boy up or just outright kissing him in the middle of the lunchroom, and trying to stop himself from doing it made him think about it, which made him want to do it more. He was an absolute mess.

Out of a desperate longing for things to go back to normal, Bokuto had accepted Akaashi’s request to study together at his house. Hence his current predicament – the two of them sprawled on the beige carpet of Akaashi’s bedroom, surrounded by books, pens and sheets of paper, equations and exercises demanding to be noticed and Akaashi watching him out of the corner of his eye, white teeth chewing absentmindedly at the end of his pencil, an apparent nervous habit that was both distracting and cute. They “worked” like that for an hour and a half, silence making the air thick and Bokuto more and more aware of the fact that he had probably not been invited over for a study session, but for an eventual interrogation.

“Bokuto-san?”

Ah. There it was. Bokuto swallowed heavily. He couldn’t even bring himself to reply. It was so unfair. Everything Akaashi did just made things so much worse. It was torture. Romantic comedies made it look so easy.

The sound of denim brushing against the rough carpet jolted Bokuto’s mind back to where he was. Oh god, Akaashi was sitting right next to him now. Owls have nine lives though, right? He’s pretty sure it’s cats, but even the tiniest sliver of hope was welcome because he was definitely on his deathbed.

“Bokuto-san,” Akaashi tried again, genuine concern glowing in his eyes. Bokuto could not look at him, he couldn’t, that would be the end of ev- Oh god, he’s staring right at Akaashi and he’s so fucking beautiful, oh god. “Are you… okay? You’ve been weird for the past week. Everyone’s worried. I’m worried…” Oh no, he said it, he said he was worried, and he looks so worried, Bokuto, you idiot, say something. 

“It’s nothing! Don’t worry!” Convincing lies were not his top skill. Though, he had to hand it to himself, he had actually managed to say something that made sense while looking into Akaashi’s glistening black eyes, which is no small feat. Wait, he’s looking away now, he’s… O h m y g o d h e i s b i t i n g h i s l i p

There was nothing, no force on earth or anywhere in the universe, no physical law governing the existence of anything that could have saved Bokuto now. Akaashi was looking down, defeated, vulnerable, visibly frustrated with himself for being unable to drag it out of the broken ace, and biting his fucking lip. Akaashi, the cool, collected Akaashi, who could part a river of excited students with the strength of his gaze alone, like some 21st century lovechild of Aphrodite and Moses, was completely open before him. And biting his fucking lip. Within one second, Bokuto’s defences crumbled one after the other, his breath hitching at the realization that he had lost all control and that his life was about to begin and end at the same time. He managed to mutter “I’m sorry”, attracting Akaashi’s surprised gaze for one second, before Bokuto was kissing Akaashi on the lips in a rough crash of soft warm skin. The sensation itself had Bokuto feeling like his soul had left his body – Akaashi’s lips were so smooth and so perfect and just everything he’d ever dreamed of, even when the kiss was so…. Not ideal. But then the realization of what was happening dawned on him and his soul probably did literally leave his body. 

Bokuto broke apart from Akaashi, who was startled and staring with his mouth in a little silent ‘o’. Bokuto had expected his body to be paralysed for at least a minute, but straight away it was moving by itself. He couldn’t look at Akaashi anymore. The ace’s hands were darting around the floor, grabbing his belongings in a mad panic, repetitive apologies spilling out from his mouth in tiny terrified breaths. He shoved books and papers into his backpack, leaving probably half his belongings on Akaashi’s floor, and stood up with a final, louder “I’m so sorry” and made for the door, heart pounding and his head light and spinning. Behind him, Akaashi was moving and telling him to wait, which only increased the urgency to leave. There was no way in hell Bokuto was ever going to be able to look the setter in the eye again. He’d have to leave the team and the country. Go into a witness protection program. Start fresh on another continent. 

He’d only managed to pull the door open a couple centimetres when suddenly Akaashi was right behind him, forcing the door shut with a bang. Bokuto froze, hand still on the handle, every inhale painful from the growing lump in his throat. Oh fucking great, he was going to cry, on top of everything else he was going to cry in front of Akaashi. 

“Bokuto-san?” Akaashi’s voice wasn’t soft like normal. It was riddled with something unstable. There was still a deep shadow of worry, but there was something more. Fear? Confusion probably. And hatred. Bokuto stared at the white wood of the door. Akaashi’s hand was still pressing it back, blocking his escape route. He had no choice but to stand there and die slowly in agony. 

He tried to ignore the sounds Akaashi was making behind him. The intensity with which he was thinking, analyzing, trying to decide what to say and do, was painful, even if Bokuto didn’t have to see the distressed expression on the raven’s pale face. His breaths were hitching occasionally in words he was trying to say, but hesitating incessantly. Fear and shame had dissolved to something akin to defeated acceptance and Bokuto’s fingers loosened around the door handle.

“Can you… can you tell me why you’ve been acting strange?” A whisper slid over his shoulder. “Please?”

Yep. Defeat. He was absolutely defeated. He sighed through his nose, the lump in his throat the size of a small apple pressing hard against every breath he took. 

“I just really wanted to do that.”

As if Akaashi’s sounds of distress weren’t torturous enough, now there was silence. For a good 20 seconds nothing happened, and Bokuto decided he’d try opening the door again to escape now that his pride had been gloriously shattered. He pressed the handle, throat aching terribly, but he was violently stopped by pressure on the back of his neck; a gentle warm press that was over far too quickly. Bokuto’s golden eyes were wide and unfocused, his breaths absent for a few seconds. Shock clouded the pain that threatened to turn into tears and all that was left was awe. 

“Bokuto-san?”

Akaashi’s voice was different again, this time sheepish and nervous, maybe a little bit shy. Bokuto turned his head slowly and stared at the boy behind him. Akaashi’s hand let go of the door, the threat of Bokuto leaving now forgotten, and watched the taller expectantly. Round eyes were staring at him like he had just performed some insane magic trick. The disbelief in his upperclassman’s eyes was so endearing, so innocent and honest, so Bokuto, that Akaashi couldn’t help but smile, head ducking slightly as if the expression and the blush that came with it were something to be ashamed of. Bokuto’s eyes followed the movement, the rest of his body turning to face the boy, gaze more and more bewildered with every tiny shift in Akaashi’s countenance. His loud demeanor didn’t match his low self-esteem. 

Though he was generally a patient person, Akaashi’s nerves twitched in his stomach, begging for the silence to be broken. Adrenaline or desperation, doesn’t matter which, gave Akaashi the confidence to look back up with a bold gleam in his dark eyes, the determination that Bokuto lacked driving him to step closer. He lifted his hands just enough to grab at the material of the ace’s t-shirt. Close enough to hear Bokuto’s breaths hitching repeatedly, Akaashi licked his lips quickly, and kissed the lovestruck boy in front of him. It was soft, much softer than when Bokuto had surprised him, simple and quick. They hovered a mere centimeter away from each other, the shorter teen waiting for his captain to catch up and understand what had happened, and when he finally did, it was with another hitched breath. Then there were big, strong hands cupping Akaashi’s face and a push as Bokuto kissed him again, this time firmer but still slowly, experimentally, delicately. The same heart that was slamming against the ace’s ribcage in celebration and disbelief was calming his body, letting his hands hold Akaashi gently, as he’d wanted, and his lips kiss him with a serene passion that the raven had never expected his ace to be capable of. 

They pulled apart once Bokuto’s pounding heart had done its work depriving him of oxygen. He was breathing heavily, eyes still scanning Akaashi’s face, searching for an explanation. Akaashi was magic – he was smart and talented and beautiful and probably definitely an actual angel. And he’d just willingly kissed Bokuto. More than once.

Dark eyes squinted slightly in a smile that pulled the corners of Akaashi’s mouth down in a charming attempt to stop the shy expression. 

“Stop.”

“Stop what?”

“Staring like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re… I don’t know.”

“What?”

“I don’t know.”

“Now I want to know, though.”

Akaashi sighed, exasperation at Bokuto’s naturally insistent curiosity slipping back into place on his emotional spectrum. “Like you’re… You kind of look… High.”

Bokuto’s cheeks twitched and stretched in a massive grin. Of course, all it took to wake him up from his trance was a comment that could only be classified as stupid. Surely, the only thing that could follow was-

“I’m high on you!”

Akaashi’s groan was muffled by a bark of laughter. The exasperated setter dropped his head against Bokuto’s shoulder and secretly reveled in the harsh but reassuring sound he’d missed over the past week.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading! comments are greatly appreciated! thank you! :)


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